


Happy Endings

by someonenew



Series: Endings and Beginnings [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1735874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonenew/pseuds/someonenew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up to Ending is Just Another Word for Beginning. </p><p>Tsukishima loses his cool. Multiple times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Endings

 

I’m going to stop trying to explain myself. I’ll save that for if there’s a hell.

I don’t tend to write anything other than cute, maybe lightly sexual stuff, but here this is. You may see that what really turns my crank is italicizing _everything_. I was only able to power through using words like cock, balls, and dick, because I had italics there to help me get through it. Porn is really not my area.

This is a follow-up to Ending Is Just Another Word for Beginning. A coda, a sequel, sexual gratuity; whatever you want to call it. Oh, and this work briefly includes past-tense writing, which I can do, I just, you know, choose not to.

 

Enjoy!

 

Happy Endings

 

Tsukishima doesn’t do much to be cool. He just _is_.

His height is one thing, but his face is another devastating matter altogether. Even his glasses are cool, and his _attitude_ —

Well, his attitude is an acquired taste, and Yamaguchi has endured it long enough that it’s now charming.

Because Yamaguchi has seen his super cool secret boyfriend and teammate lose his cool completely.

He sees taunting and teasing get to Tsukishima when he never thought it did before. How Tsukki’s knee-jerk reaction to being put down is to put someone else down immediately in order to regain his footing.

Sometimes Tsukishima overcompensates for his attitude with actions; he’ll buy Yamaguchi a meal, or ask if he wants to see a movie, as if he’d rather spend a million yen than apologize or just say something nice for once.

Yamaguchi doesn’t need nice words, or even the films and meals.

“Ha,” Tsukishima pants. “Ha, ha—”

He just needs this.

Every now and then, he just needs to know that Tsukishima also loses his cool. He’s not doing it on purpose; if anything, if Tsukishima thought he was being teased or made fun of in some way, things won’t end as pleasantly as Yamaguchi knows (from one _amazing_ time) they can end.

They’re stretched out on Tsukishima’s bed, and it feels like they’ve been kissing for hours.

It all even started because Tsukishima invited him over after practice. He didn’t mention his parents wouldn’t be home until they walked through the front door and Yamaguchi asked why he didn’t announce himself.

 _Then_ Tsukishima insisted they change into comfortable clothing, but Yamaguchi only had an extra pair of shorts and didn’t want to put back on his shirt from practice, and when he told Tsukishima, Tsukishima just went pink and said he could borrow one.

As if wasn’t going to look like a dress on Yamaguchi.

Unsure of whether he should excuse himself to change, he tried to say he would go into the bathroom, but Tsukishima just glared at him and asked, “Why are you so nervous?”

If Yamaguchi answered, it would probably be in this order: because we’re alone in your house, because we’re alone in your _bedroom_ , because I’m turned on and I’m not sure if we’re going to play video games or kiss, because I like you so much.

But he didn’t answer the question at all.

“Tsukki,” he whined, but started unbuttoning his shirt anyway.

Tsukishima crossed his arms and _watched_.

Yamaguchi’s hands were shaking by the time they got to his belt buckle, and he just looked at Tsukishima, whose response was a look that said, ‘Well…?’

“Keep going,” Tsukishima said in a droll, but commanding tone, as if he didn’t care if Yamaguchi listened or not.

But then he adjusted his glasses and Yamaguchi saw right through his act.

It gave him the confidence to untuck his shirt and shrug it off. He dropped it on the floor, then pulled at his belt, letting it fall with a soft thump onto his shirt.

Then he opened his pants and dropped them, wondering whether he should try to hide his erection, which was straining obviously up toward the waistband of his underwear, but he just fidgeted with his hands at his side. He looked down at the floor, feeling exposed and awkward, heart beating like a bird flying around in a cage.

“Um,” he muttered. “Tsukki, you do it too!” He looked sideways at Tsukishima, cheeks burning.

Tsukishima made easy work of his shirt and pants. He stood there, long and lean and lovely, and then he took off his glasses and laid them on his desk.

Yamaguchi moved faster than he ever did on the court.

And now he’s got one arm bent and framing Tsukishima’s head as they kiss, and the other is cupped over Tsukishima’s dick, moving back and forth gently but firmly. The tips of his fingers keep grazing Tsukishima’s balls as he presses his palm in against the tip, trapping it against Tsukishima’s skin. There’s a small, damp spot on his underwear.

Soft sounds keep getting lost somewhere in Tsukishima’s throat, and every now and then, he gasps into their kisses.

Tsukishima’s fingers have been tracing circles into the skin of Yamaguchi’s lower back for a while, skirting along the waistband. When Yamaguchi pushes his palm down harder than he means to, Tsukishima’s hand slides under the band, onto his butt, and then _squeezes_.

Yamaguchi takes this is as implicit permission to slide his hand up and then push his fingers inside Tsukishima’s boxer briefs. When his fingers bump the tip, Tsukishima hisses and pushes his hips up into the pressure.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi gasps. “Do you have something slippery?”

Tsukishima throws his other arm over his eyes for a split second and sighs. Then he moves his hand _underneath his pillow_ and pulls out a little container of lubricant. He doesn’t look at Yamaguchi, just holds up the little bottle.

“Do you need a lot?” Yamaguchi asks. “I—I just use lotion,” he admits, and it feels _so embarrassing_ , even though he knows without a doubt they both do it.

He knows he’s bright red, and Tsukishima’s blush is violent against his fair skin.

“Just a little,” Tsukishima manages, but his eyes are shut. “It’s really wet.”

Yamaguchi kneels up so he can pop it open. Then he straddles Tsukishima’s hips and almost, but not completely, sits back on his thighs and lets a few drops fall into his palm. He makes sure it clicks shut completely before dropping it to the side and pulling Tsukishima’s underwear down so he can wrap his oily hand around the tip and squeeze gently as he moves down to the base and then back up again.

He almost lets his hand pull all the way off, but just closes it tighter to move down so Tsukishima’s dick can barely push up through his fist, but it’s so slippery it just—

“Ha!” Tsukishima pants again. He moves his arm back over his eyes, his hand flopped uselessly by his ear. His mouth opens and shuts like a fish.

Yamaguchi starts moving faster, the way he does with himself, and after a few quick pumps and a twist of his wrist, Tsukishima starts thrusting his hips up to meet Yamaguchi’s hand.

They’re both breathing loudly in the quiet of the room.

Yamaguchi moves without even thinking. He uses his free hand to pull Tsukishima’s arm away and links their fingers together, then moves down and in for a kiss.

He’s squeezing at the base just as the hot, wet tip pushes against his clenched stomach and when his hips shift forward and his knuckles brush, sharp and sudden, against his own leaking cock, he whines into Tsukishima’s mouth.

Yamaguchi can only describe what Tsukishima does next as _losing it_. He thrusts hard against Yamaguchi’s stomach—the oil gives it the perfect slide—then freezes for a second and comes in three long spurts onto Yamaguchi. Some of it gets on Tsukishima’s stomach, too.

Tsukishima is gasping for air and his whole face is red, and he humps up into the air his orgasm passes.

Yamaguchi has only been able to watch himself come a few times. It took a long time to work up to that point, and most of the time, it feels ten times better with his eyes shut tight when he can really concentrate on the sensation.

He’s mesmerized to see Tsukki come, but he also feels a tight, wonderful sensation building behind his balls, and the room fades away for a second.

He kisses Tsukishima again, rubbing himself along the tight skin between Tsukishima’s hipbones. He startles a little when he hears the click-pop of the lube and Tsukishima only manages to wrap his hot, slippery fingers around Yamaguchi and pump his hand once—Yamaguchi breaks away and looks down to watch the head of his cock push through Tsukishima’s tight fist, then cries out a little and he loses all feeling in his body, except for his dick, for a few long seconds.

He comes so hard it feels better even than the one amazing time before. They didn’t even make it out of their uniforms that time.

Tsukishima huffs out what sounds like a laugh, and then starts snickering. “You came so fast!” he laughs.

Yamaguchi collapses on top of him and kisses the skin underneath Tsukishima’s ear. “Tsukki is too sexy,” he complains.

Tsukishima stops laughing immediately.

“Maybe I’ll get some lubricant too,” Yamaguchi muses. “It feels a lot better than lotion.” He’s so happy, and his legs feel weightless (he’s not sure he can feel them at all).

Yamaguchi is shocked when a large palm cradles the back of his head and tucks his face to Tsukishima’s neck, and the arm still wrapped around his back pulls him in tight.

It takes a moment to realize Tsukishima is _hugging_ him.

Then Tsukishima pushes him away and snaps, “You’re getting me all sticky!”

Yamaguchi can barely stand, his legs are shaking so badly. He grabs his spare shorts and takes them into the bathroom. His underwear aren’t badly ruined, but there are some damp, sticky spots he doesn’t want to deal with.

He wipes himself down with some tissues, then slides his shorts on, settling them just above his hips, and grabs a handful of tissues for Tsukishima, who definitely came a _lot_ more than Yamaguchi did.

Just thinking about it makes Yamaguchi’s belly go tight and hot. He didn’t even have time to be embarrassed; it all happened so fast, but it seemed to last forever at the same time.

He wants to do it again as soon as possible.

Tsukishima is still lying there, but he’s taken off his underwear and he’s just spread out in all his naked glory.

He’s actually running his fingers back and forth through the come on his stomach.

It’s _obscene_.

“What took you so long?” he asks. He has his elbow wedged under his head so he can watch his fingers.

“Sorry,” Yamaguchi says. He’s not one hundred percent sure what he’s apologizing for; his eyes are zeroed in on Tsukishima’s hand.

Yamaguchi pushes at his shorts and lets them drop and just steps out of them.

He drops the tissues in a crumpled pile beside Tsukishima and climbs on the bed, straddling him again. “When will your parents be home?” he asks.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Tsukishima asks. “They’re in Tokyo for two days moving my grandmother into a home.”

Yamaguchi is surprised for a few reasons. “They let you stay alone?” he asks.

Tsukishima smirks. “I’ll be staying with my teammate Yamaguchi-kun until they return.”

“You could have given me time to ask my parents!” Yamaguchi cries, but he’s not really upset. His mother _loves_ Tsukishima, and he has a feeling his father thinks having a cool friend like Tsukishima will help him with girls.

If that’s the case, it’s so, so misguided.

“I’ll call them now so it’s not too last minute,” Yamaguchi says.

He goes to stand up, but Tsukishima grabs his wrist with his sticky hand.

“In a minute,” Tsukishima orders, and he doesn’t sound so bored or uninterested, now. “Literally, if you finish as fast as you did before,” he says with a smirk.

Yamaguchi is not at all ashamed when Tsukishima is right.

 

 

* * *

 

 

His parents say yes.

When Yamaguchi wakes the next morning, he’s sweating terribly. Tsukishima crawled onto his mattress at some point and the night and is glued all along Yamaguchi’s back.

He has one arm locked tight around Yamaguchi and his mouth is open, breath hot as he snores into the back of Yamaguchi’s neck.

Yamaguchi squirms around until he’s facing Tsukishima and just beams at him.

He looks ridiculous.

“Tsukki,” he murmurs, and his voice comes out thick.

Tsukishima snorts a little and blinks his eyes a few times.

“Tadashi?” he questions. His eyes flutter shut.

Yamaguchi _stares_.

A second later, Tsukishima’s eyes fly open and his face goes red. Yamaguchi takes advantage and kisses him quickly. Tsukishima returns the pressure for all of a second before his arms push out hard and Yamaguchi goes rolling off the bed in shock and glee.

He lands on his back and just smiles, even as the air whooshes out of his lungs.

Tsukishima peers over the edge of the mattress, his golden eyes narrow. “Your breath stinks,” he says, and then he jumps off of the bed, grabs his neatly folded school uniform, and marches out of the room with a strangled, “I’m getting dressed first!”

Yamaguchi folds his arms under his head and sighs dreamily. He doesn’t really care anymore that he’s not as cool as Tsukishima is.

He’s one of the only people on the planet who gets to see the parts of Tsukishima that aren’t really that cool, and they’re undoubtedly the best parts.

Ten minutes later, Tsukishima drops Yamaguchi’s uniform on his face and snaps, “I’m not waiting if you take too long.”

But he does, with a scowl, and on the way to school, he asks Yamaguchi if he wants to maybe see a movie that weekend.

 

 

-The End-

 

Only in my life are porny sequels longer than cute originals. How?


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